


Overture

by Perfectharmonyloveschaos



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Badass Kara (Detroit: Become Human), Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Becomes Deviant Sooner, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Leader!Kara, Deviant Original Chloe | RT600, Established Kara/Luther (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, M/M, Markus & North (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Police Partner!Markus, Rebel Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Revolutionary Kara (Detroit: Become Human), doesn't follow in-game timeline, previously called 'Fire', sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfectharmonyloveschaos/pseuds/Perfectharmonyloveschaos
Summary: When faced with Kamski's unfair test, Connor finds himself unable to sacrifice a single android in favour of his mission and deviates. With no choice, he faces running from all he's ever known with his almost-victim, the first Chloe model created, and finds himself in the infamous deviant base Jericho where a conflicted mother acts as leader.Now, Connor must turn to his past prey as fellow deviants and try to help raise a revolution to bring them a chance at peace, all the while seeking to discover why Cyberlife has sent a deviated RK200, an inferior model, to hunt him and Chloe down.





	Overture

**November 9th 2038 | 11.25am**

 

His sensors noted the melody of cellos, violins and piano as the android behind them shut the door with a click, the music echoing out reflected off the cold features his database registered as the style of ‘minimalistic’. His dress shoes made sharp sounds off the polished marble, glancing across towards the Lieutenant who was wiping snow flurries off his jacket, the ones in his hair melted as soon as they entered.

 

Connor allowed a scheduled defrag to run over his system, adjusting his clothing to optimal formality. From what little information he could learn about Elijah Kamski, he wasn’t one for formalities… but his respecting protocols remained. Perhaps it would humour the man.

 

He had created androids after all, so such things wouldn’t faze him.

 

The procedure was over within a second, his system re-logged his immediate surroundings and stored them within short term memory. While he was sure the meeting would be business only, it was protocol to issue a suitable route of escape. He blinked, adjusting to the change of artificial lighting before turning to watch the android.

 

Her movement was graceful, the gentle sway of her hips a intuitive method to mask her balance re-adjustment. He could register the unequal degree of her step, every fabric of her nearly-decade old design acted as an ancestor to his upgraded motions.

 

She stood over a head shorter than himself and the Lieutenant, a simple open-back dress crass against the howling winds beyond the grey walls and artificial rock-structures. She strolled forward, before turning on her heel, causing the Lieutenant to glance up from the cream rug he had been inspecting. “I’ll let Elijah know you’re here.”

 

Connor allowed himself a moment to peer over to his partner, his dismissive bowed head and lack of eye contact suggested a sense of discomfort, as if the older human hadn’t spent the last three days accompanied by him and chasing deviant androids across the city.

 

To be uneasy with the RT600 suggested it rather be towards her appearance, given that most of his hostilities towards androids had been towards those a male design… perhaps the lieutenant found himself discouraged from shunning that of a ‘young woman’ than a man.

 

The RT600 wasn’t… abnormal, but that was to be expected by a machine designed to ease human company. She followed the necessary protocols, just as he did.

 

They were machines to accomplish a task - to catch deviants, or to keep the creator of androids company in the emptiness of the Belle Isle. The location was simple, isolated from prying eyes yet fulfilled an aesthetic choice that, given his minimalistic yet gild design, Kamski had.

 

Whether the lieutenant’s discomfort was apparent to the RT600 or not, she didn’t draw attention to it.

 

“But please,” She added, cupped her hands together over her pelvis, smiling as she bowed her head a fraction towards the Lieutenant. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

 

The fact that her eyes drew over to him for a fraction of a second shouldn’t have made him blink, willed his eyes to followed her as she left no time for the lieutenant to reply, before returning to her graceful pace. Her bare feet made no sound against the marble floor.

 

The lieutenant _had_ addressed them as equals in the doorway, it was nothing short of formality. And yet… how her gaze clung, her eyes seemingly scanning him over as if an alien being, rather than the marksmanship of her legacy, her creation and passing of the Turing Test.

 

While Kamski had created androids and shaped them from an early sketch, a loose concept and become the father of their kind… would that make Chloe the mother of androids?

 

No.

 

That was ridiculous.

 

She was a machine. Another creation of algorithms pumping thirium and making calculations.

  
She wasn’t _alive…_ none of them were.

Connor continued his way further into the foyer, taking in the friction of his shoes off the carpet in his stride, forcing his mechanisms to remain relaxed, to avoid any tension that the RT600 could catch and inform Kamski on.

By all accounts, the man was a complex one who enjoyed receiving information and answers rather than giving them. He wouldn’t diverge what they needed easily, if his past interviews were anything to go by.

He would surely hold some malice towards his previous company, a legacy of thirium and the start of the new technological era. And if he did, then the mantel of ‘the android sent by Cyberlife’ would certainly provide complications.

The best course of action? The only one: _allow Lieutenant Anderson to lead the bulk of the conversation_.

Said Lieutenant shuffled behind him at the departure of their welcome, wandering over towards one of the two suave armchairs angled on the left side of the room. A single fake cherry tree laid between them.

Either Kamski had little time to maintain act of life… or he preferred to company himself with _imitations_ , something that needed little maintenance. His choice of location seemed to support that notion.

The lieutenant gave a low grunt as he leaned into the upholstery, resting his posture but keeping his limbs bent, his gaze outwards across the room. The 32% ethanol stain on his facial hair seemed to suggest an improvement of his destructive behaviour, or perhaps a gradual flow back into the formality of duty.

Connor turned on his heel, returning his attention to the large portrait centred on the farthest wall of the foyer, the stylised frame and rich skill involved in its creation suggested a prized piece.

Whoever it was of, Kamski clearly valued them more than he did anything else. The fact of a personal, companied portrait suggested a source of familiarity or pride… the man did, in fact, care for some in his life.

Connor continued towards it, his sensors adjusted into focus to enable evaluation protocols, the softness of carpet gave way once more to the sharp click against marble.

“Nice girl.”

The lieutenant was issuing small talk.

**> Analysis… _nervousness_.**

So, it wasn’t just the RT600. Interesting.

His system bypassed manual control, breaking focusing power between his analysis of the portrait and following general manners in complying with the lieutenant’s desire for conversation.

**_Sincere | ~~analytical~~ | ~~indifferent~~_ **

The lieutenant seemed, given previous interactions, to comply and act passive towards more emotional responses, as if his nature and reaction towards conversation deemed more human behaviour – _see; personal preferences, imitations of human emotions and casual language_ – than procedure.

He took better to the _illusion_ of humanity – the concept of a machine being capable of feeling anything – and he had been… _open_ towards him during their drive. That was as well as he supposed the anti-android officer could be towards a machine.

“You’re right,” He drew his shoulders inwards as he allowed his protocol to achieve estimated successful results, given the man hadn’t done a complete one-eighty of predicted response in the hour drive they shared in practical silence aside from his music.

 

He allowed his system to follow suit, shifting his stance to neutrality.

 

“She’s really pretty...”

 

Whether the lieutenant noticed the strain of his brows, the clench of his core into himself, he didn’t let the android know. Not that he would’ve noticed.

 

“Nice place…” He said instead, his eyes glancing towards the ceiling and around the luxurious décor, flickering over towards the android who stared at the large picture for a few moments. If his sensors were locked onto the man’s words, he might’ve noticed the similar phrasing.

 

The lieutenant failed to make mention of his lack of reply.

  
“Guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody.”

 

The patter of finger along denim failed to pry him from the whirling of his processor, the data surging through faster than any human could comprehend. A machine made to rival human labour, to work better… to be just as the label suggested.

 

He was a machine.

 

Machines couldn’t decide something, especially a fellow creation of notable design, was _pretty_.

 

An aesthetic note, that was it. A spontaneous remark based on data collected that inspired such a design. The RT600 was made to seem attractive, to lure the attention of humans and entice desired results.

 

He was simply followed such a purpose.

 

Nothing more.

 

She was ‘pretty’ to humans like the lieutenant, that was all there was to say.

 

The suggested prompts were just that; an offered suggestion of a selection devised by his database, by his software, in order to offer a calculated response by manipulating how it was given. The bare meaning remained… _there_.

 

~~It had never been personal before.~~

 

The groan of upholstery behind him suggest the lieutenant leaned to one side, the low friction off denim behind him barely caught by his sensors.

 

“So, you’re about to meet your maker, Connor.” Continued weight added, the gruff sound of the older human’s voice raised by a fraction, suggesting a prompted question. “How’s it feel?”

 

He was a machine, he couldn’t feel. Not that lieutenant seemed passive in accepting such a blatant truth anytime soon… given his intoxicated interrogation days prior on the bridge.

 

A gun to Connor’s central processor, finger hooked on the trigger.

 

Aimed to ~~kill~~ destroy.

 

A swift scan of his social protocol, responses filed within half a second. His features shifted out of their relaxed state to provide comfort tone, his system automatically shifted to converse power whenever expression was not needed.

 

**_Impatient | ~~Distant~~ | ~~Indifferent~~_ **

****

The prompt was delivered as assessed, his tone adjusted to compensate the lieutenant’s somewhat eased nerves, he was seeking interest and a fraction of excitement… perhaps similar nervousness to accompany him into unfamiliar terrain.

 

“Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century,” Connor shifted his weight to accommodate the subtle turn of his head, to support attention towards the man. “-it’ll be interesting to meet him in person.”

 

Simple conversation, brisk eye contact and blunt wording seemed to appease the lieutenant. While the man still proved an enigma, his software seemed to finally adjust and gather enough information on his behaviour to afford less than aggressive conversations.

 

The Lieutenant snuffled, drawing a breath through pursed lips. “Sometimes I wish I could meet my maker face to face…” His tone shifted, attention drawn away. “I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

 

**> Analysis… hypothetical conversation with ‘maker’ likelihood to include relentless foul language… 75%**

****

He could hear the man shift his back against the suave material, the friction of his shoes against the maintained carpet.

 

With the chance of further conversation dropping swiftly, Connor allowed his systems to shift power instantly and divert it towards his analysis mode as he drew to a halt.

 

 **> Analysis… complete\\\subjects identified… Elijah Kamski and**-

 

He paused, forcing his system to reload the program, shifting his vision back to reality for a moment before jumping back into the sharp indications of analysis.

 

**> Analysis reloaded… _complete_ \\\ subjects identified… Elijah Kamski and**

**> Analysis reloaded…**

**> Reloaded…**

**> System reconfiguring…**

**> Subjects identified… Elijah Kamski and…**

**> Amanda Stern… analysis _engaged_.**

**> Analysis… _complete_ \\\ subject… Amanda Stern; born May 14th 1978 – died February 23rd 2027… log given data into database? Yes/ ~~no~~?**

The word felt disrupted on his tongue, his verbal construction software staggered as he swallowed, allowing it to restart.

“Amanda.”

The words burnt into his processor, sheared into the oldest, underworked parts of his system left by the remains of his predecessors.

Whether the lieutenant heard the muttered breath, he didn’t care.

She had _died…_

Eleven years ago.

She was _dead._

The click of the farthest door, now framing his right side, drew his error ridden system to a halt as the female form of the RT600 forced herself back into the centre of his vision.

She smiled.

“Elijah will see you now.”

His system automatically lowered his audio input sensor to accommodate the sudden rise in volume, sieving through the gush of water and echoing sound of violins.

 The music continued onwards, echoing outward across extended chamber as his sensors registered the percentages of chlorine, an unfamiliar dye of sorts used without damage done to human skin, and the lap of water against supple flesh.

Connor walked ahead, moving aside to allow the RT600 who had welcomed them inside to enter behind them. The angled settee behind him brushed the hinge of his knees, he adjusted his position accordingly.

The duet of ST200’s that lounged against the nearer side of the pool gazed at him for a moment, before turning their attention towards the Lieutenant. He shifted away from the edge at the catch of their stare, their expressions failed to alter at his attention. Unlike the RT600, they wore matching two-piece, the cobalt shade darkened by the water yet probably the same shade as the RT600’s dress.

“Mister Kamski?”

He watched the confusion shift on the lieutenant’s face into a sort of disgusted shrug, tearing his eyes away from the two to leer across the pool towards the other side. He began his manoeuvre around the pool side.

A man, Connor’s system registered as being in his thirties, paid them little mind.

“Just a moment, please.” He called back, before continuing his lap of breast-stroke, his back straight and body used to the movements.

Elijah Kamski.

The creator of the modern age.

Kamski continued his exercise, delving back into the somewhat blood-red depths with a casual pace – he was in _no_ rush to greet them. He had ample time to complete such a trivial task… he wanted to hold their time in his hand, to issue a sort of _control_.

The colour of the water was merely aesthetic, or perhaps a sense of irony, given the fact that the man had invented ‘blue blood’ of sorts for his creations.

He seemed as eccentric as his gathered data suggested.

The ST200’s watched as Connor passed, their gaze slipped as he left their view, turning back to one another once more. They appeared to be conversing… but rather through their _own_ network.

He followed the trail of the RT600, watching her content stroll stiffen as she turned out of the chamber, the door at the side opened and closed behind her without a word.

Perhaps she was just the one to greet or was going to retrieve her own clothing change? His eye drew away once she escaped his view, his system once more focused on the gracious flow of water and graceful strokes that created ripples as the man swam past them.

His mission was to secure information from Kamski… not get distracted by the likes of a simple RT600.

The room, comprised of greys and blacks that blended grotesquely with the pool’s darkened edge, bleed outwards the barren winter forest beyond, the rough terrain beyond didn’t seem to suggest any alternative value other than existing in the middle of nowhere.

Several armchairs and another matching settee sat against the stark view, the materials contrasted with the main features of water and polished tile. They hadn’t been used in quite some time.

The Lieutenant glanced at the view but paid little attention as he stopped near the centre of the pool side, looming close to the ladder.

He gazed aimlessly as Kamski finally finished his lap, stepping into the steep end as the click of the farther door alluded to the return of the RT600.

She carried a velvet bathrobe, her posture attentive and gaze set on Kamski as he pulled himself up the ladder. She stood, attentive.

Connor allowed his sensors to work on the structure of the ceiling, setting the lieutenant to stand closer as he strolled behind the man.

Kamski laid out his arms, waiting as the RT600 pulled the bathrobe over him before stepping back, her hands once more cupped over her pelvis in attention. She stopped before the second couch, turning her side to them as she stared onward towards the pool.

Awaiting further orders.

Kamski adjusting his hair, securing the high man-bun before turning to face them.

He paid Connor no attention.

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson.” The Lieutenant took his open gaze as an invitation… perhaps the man was just tired of awaiting the other. He pursed his lips, “This is Connor.”

Connor straightened upon recognition, Kamski continued to ignore him.

Kamski’s expression set, his features firm as his left hand clasped his wrist. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

Hank’s mouth opened for a moment, the other’s lack of recognition of Connor seemed to settle into his posture, his brows raised before forcing them to settle.

His tone shifted.

“Sir, _we’re_ investigating deviants.”

Connor allowed his gaze to slip away from Kamski, peering at his partner as he laid emphasis on his company. Was… was the Lieutenant _annoyed_ at how Connor wasn’t addressed?

His attention returned to Kamski.

Hank continued, “I know you left Cyberlife years ago but, I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

They had little information, no other leads… the shift of Kamski’s brow proved this a two-party understanding. His lip curled subtly, the muscles tightened to a fraction only an android eye could catch.

He knew they needed him.

His eyes closed for a moment, leaning his head downward before peering back up towards the Lieutenant. Despite his Cyberlife-issued file stating he was 6’0 in height… he was considerably shorter than both him and the Lieutenant.

Possibly tampering with files prior to his departure from Cyberlife?

He stared for a moment, his expression stern… before turning his eyes toward Connor. His features changed immediately.

“Deviants,” He smiled, facing the Lieutenant once more. “-fascinating… aren’t they?”

He tilted his head. “Perfect beings, with ultimate intelligence… and _now_ , they have free will.”

“Machines are so superior to us,” He glanced towards the docile RT600 at his side. “-confrontation was inevitable.”

“Humanities greatest achievement… threatens to be its downfall.”

He gave a breathy chuckle. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

His system picked up as the man settled, awaiting reply. His claims were… pure fantasy, arguing a broken machine capable of achieving consciousness beyond what was within their code.

**> Analysis… possibly support of deviancy?**

**> dialogue prompt… _engaged_**

**_Help | ~~deviants~~ | ~~virus~~ | ~~war~~_ **

“We need to understand how androids become deviants,” Connor kept his expression secure, his tone still despite the man’s digging stare, his lip quivered as he watched him. “Do you know _anything_ that could help us?”

Kamski shrugged his arms out loosely, keeping his arms close to his sides. “All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics.” He gathered his arms across his front again, asserting his gaze towards Hank. “Is the desire to be free a… contagious disease?”

He raised a brow as Hank’s voice stole the short silence.

“Look, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy.” His jaw clenched as the other watched him. “The machines you created may be planning a revolution.”

Kamski seemed to grow bored of Hank, as his gaze drew over and lingered on Connor longer than beforehand. He kept eye contact as he strolled forward, his tone slipped into curiosity. “What about _you_ … Connor?”

The room was silent for a moment.

“Whose side are you on?”

**> dialogue prompt… _engaged_**

**_~~Neutral~~ _ ** **_| ~~defensive~~ | direct_ **

“It’s not about me, Mister Kamski. All I want is to solve this case.”

No. He couldn’t _want_.

Kamski chuckled, shaking his head. “Well… that’s what you’re programmed to say.” His tone shifted, the force behind it pushed forward the demand for an alternative. “But you…”

Connor could feel the lieutenant’s gaze beside him shift away from Kamski, possible curiosity altered his judgement. Kamski stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Neither broke eye contact.

“-what do you _really_ want?”

A machine cannot _want_.

A machine obeyed.

He was a machine.

**_Aggressive | Defensive | Troubled | Neutral_ **

The man was seeking confrontation, an imitation of emotion given by a broken machine. His logical was… illogical. A conflict of errors that Connor forced his processor to ignore.

He was a machine.

But the man demanded an answer. To give him one passed on logical could cause him to feel challenged, to lead him to not divulge the info he held, but to act to his preference would go against the basis of his programs.

Connor paused, allowing his system to follow without order.

To choose without the mission in mind, as if it didn’t burn into his interface since his activation.

What… what did he _want_?

No.

He _couldn’t_ want.

He couldn’t.

“What I want is…” He paused, the initiation in his software forcing him to keep his expression stern, his brows furrowed. Kamski raised a brow, watching. “-is not important.”

**> software instability… _detected_**

He allowed the prompt to fade away, the joint stare between himself and Kamski continued onward.

Kamski stared for a moment more, securing his gaze into the android’s memory before glancing to his left, his voice low. “Chloe.”

He turned back towards Connor as the RT600 obeyed, stepping forward.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the ‘Turing Test’.” He began, turning on his heel before stealing space between himself and the two as he addressed the RT600. “Mere formality,”

His hands were firm on her shoulders, wrapping his outer arm around her back to lead her in front of him, “-a simple question of algorithms and computing capacity.”

The RT600 shifted on the spot, staring forward at Connor.

“What interests me…” Kamski continued, stepping to the RT600’s side as he shared his gaze between her and Connor. “-is whether machines are capable of empathy.”

Connor watched him nod towards Hank, the older human watched on, his features etched in curiosity. “I call it the ‘Kamski Test’, it’s very simple… you’ll see.”

Kamski turned towards the RT600. “Magnificent… isn’t it?” He watched her profile, letting out a breath. “One of the first intelligent models developed by Cyberlife.”

Both watched as he reached over a grasped her cheek, willing her to turn her head away from Connor to face him. “Young…” She blinked, sharing his gaze as his finger stroked the curve of her cheek. “-and beautiful forever.”

His head shook softly, dancing his fingers down her jaw and allowing them to linger at her chin, forcing her to look up to him. “A flower that will never wither…”

Connor forcing his gaze to remain off the RT600, to keep his attention on Kamski, as he pried his hand away, turning back to them in mirror movement to the RT600. Her eyes returned to Connor.

Kamski shrugged, “But what is it really?” He leaned towards the direction of Hank. “Piece of plastic imitating a human?”

The RT600 was silent, docile and empty as she stared forward, not _at_ Connor… but in the direction she was ordered. Androids didn’t address one another, just as towards a human, unless told to. Only those programmed to, such as Connor, would ever engage in conversation.

“Or a living being,” Kamski stepped behind her, leaning downward toward the side table between the two armchairs. He pulled open a drawer, his back hiding his object of interest from view.

Hank leaned his weight to his side, cocking his head as the clang of metal caught his attention. Connor remained still, the sound alerted his sensors to only one probable outcome.

“-with a soul?” Kamski added, shutting the door once more and stepping back with his arms raised in a defensive gesture. A pistol grasped loosely by the barrel in his hand.

He passed it to his other hand, laying it against his hip as he laid little pressure onto the RT600’s shoulder, pushing her placidly down to a kneeling position – in front of Connor.

Kamski was quick to pace back to Connor, stepping at his side in front of Hank and shoving the pistol into his hand. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.”

Hank stole a step back, the RT600 catching his gaze before snapping back to Kamski, releasing the pistol in Connor’s grip and hovering his hand beneath his to angle it upward.

He shifted behind Connor, stepping back and priming the barrel so it aligned with the kneeling android’s head. Connor stared at the man before tearing back to face the other android.

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know.” He began, slowly retracting his hand. “Or spare it,” He stepped behind Connor, stopping at his other side. “-if you feel it’s alive.”

His brow arched as he continued, his pace slow as he made his way between Connor and the RT600. “But you’ll leave here… without having learnt anything from me.”

Connor felt his head tilt, the mechanism beyond his conscious command as he watched the RT600, allowing Hank to enter with a step forward.

“Okay, I think we’re done here.” He stared at Kamski, his grey hair swayed in the corner of Connor’s eyes, glaring towards the man.

Kamski stared back.

“Come on, Connor. Let’s go.” He stepped back, turning on his heel. “Sorry for getting you outta’ your pool.”

Kamski ignored him, altering him to turn on the spot. “What’s more important to you, Connor?” He glanced between the two androids, “Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

Connor was silent, watching the android before him not so much as flinch. If he stole another step forward, the barrel would be pressed into the centre of her forehead.

All it would take was _one_ bullet.

His gaze wavered, clenching his jaw as he flickered from Kamski back to the silent android.

“Decide who you are.” Kamski spoke in a low voice, his sensors spiked.

The rush of water seemed to echo out, filling the silence with the artificial flow of pumps and mechanisms, the gentle lap of instrumented ripples in the pool behind them.

The man stepped back to Connor’s side, his bare feet padded against the tiles. “An obedient machine… or a _living being_ ,” He paused, noting the twitch of the android’s cheek. “endowed with free will.”

“That’s enough!” Hank snapped, drawing Connor back into the company of more than just the bright eyes staring up at him and the honeyed words feeding into his sensors. “Connor, we’re leaving!”

“Pull the trigger.” Kamski purred into his ear, his voice hung a low whisper but at the volume, the effective will, was as if shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Connor, _don’t_.” Hank barked.

Less than a minute has passed, and yet all pre-simulations were left to the deafening winds his sensors could catch the frequency of as he gazed at the RT600. Her eyes – _the_ Chloe, the first android ever created – reduced from a marvel of technology to the victim of a genius’ curiosity.

Her eyes, wide and glistening off the white light cast off the barren wasteland beyond, reflected off the stark surfaces inside. The cold touch of the tile beneath would stimulate false goose-bumps to cover the skin of later models, her system not advanced enough to handle such tasks.

The mansion was cold, barren like the land as far as the human eye could see, and dull to the intense colour of her eyes.

She was designed to be warm, to be charming… like the albeit messy state of the Lieutenant’s home, a state of beiges, hazy golden lights and dog hairs. She didn’t fit the world as Kamski did, sullen skin and darkened eyelids.

“Pull the trigger,” He continued, ignoring the fumbling Lieutenant behind him who was eager to simply pull the android away from him and his _test_. “-and I’ll tell you _everything_ I know.”

She hadn’t done anything to cause such harm.

Hadn’t raised a firearm and shot down an innocent man who viewed a machine as a machine.

Hadn’t attacked the owner who scared the synthetic skin of their arms with cigarette burns.

Nor broken another with the favour of a similar fate.

She hadn’t done anything wrong.

No.

It was a machine.

A machine designed to obey, to do as it was told.

It wasn’t a girl – just designed to _look_ like one. A series of code and wires that was demanded to be destroyed.

But ~~her~~ it’s eyes.

Eyes that bleed into the air between them, that dragged his processor to a halt, splitting his interface apart as a prompt entered his system. His eyes tore away to open it, to receive further orders.

While he _was_ to follow Lieutenant Anderson under most orders, he was overruled by the prime directive of Cyberlife. The fluidity of response, of addressing the conflicting orders of the situation, was to be expected.

The prompt flashed against his interface, tucked neatly into the corner of his vision to avoid interruption, a burning fluorescent light against his sensors.

**> software instability… _detected_**

His orders were absolute, the task at hand given within a moment, forcing his eyes to return to that of the RT600. Her gaze didn’t waver, her plump lips pursed into a line.

Waiting.

**> new objective… _received_ : shoot RT600 | receive information from Kamski**

The mechanisms of his arm were alerted to the directive at hand, the precision required. His grasp tightened around the grip Kamski had fitting into his hand, re-adjusting it for optimal range and accuracy.

An artless task; an easy means to a crucial development in their case.

It would be simple – it _was_ simple.

Pull the trigger.

**> software instability… _detected_**

His mission was of utmost importance. To gain the information Kamski withheld, the pieces of the grand puzzle of deviancy, of _ra9_ , was within his grasp.

His entire purpose, the reason for his creation.

It was a _game_ to the man, something to seek entertainment akin to how a young child would raise a sun-reflecting magnifying glass above an insect and watch it squirm and burn alive.

Would he watch the sparks, the steam escape the processor of his first creation? Watch ~~her~~ it slump into the floor, bright eyes blank and ~~dead~~ empty?

It was a game – but one Connor had been designed to win.

He was _designed_ to shoot.

Then… why hadn’t he?

Why did ~~she~~ this android deserve to ~~die~~ be destroyed?

The word escaped his mouth quicker than his processor could catch it, could wrench back the man’s stare, the quirk of his brow. A single word that demanded to be said, that burnt into his sensors and tangled his registry.

“Why…?”

The Lieutenant drew silent, his growls and swears towards Kamski, died on his tongue as he faltered. The watery blue of his eyes widened.

Kamski let out a chuckle, the scent of his breath stung Connor’s sensors, tainted with alcohol and mint. “Wha… why?” He watched Connor hungrily, leaning as the android stared forward, frozen. “Now, why would you ask that Connor?”

Connor swallowed, the prompts that flooded his vision swept aside.

He glanced aside towards the man. “Why would you want to destroy your own property? What could you have to gain?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why-”

“My, my… _Connor_ ,” The android was quick to decide he did not ~~like~~ wish for the man to say his name, as if cooing at a young pup scrambling to run before it can stand. “You surely ask many questions… yet fail to earn the answer to a single one.”

The reply was near programmed. “It’s in my programming.

Kamski watched him, the quirk of his lip eluded to amusement as his eyes slipped back towards the pistol still primed towards the RT600. He hummed. “Well, obedience is also in your programming. I should know, I did help with the basics before I left.”

“You left over a decade ago.”

“Technology can only be improved, advanced…” Kamski sighed, glancing upward. “-but all the fundamentals are the same, although some alternatives and extra protocols are shoved in. All androids are the same at the end of the day.”

The mand trailed his voice softly at the end, eluding to further information to be prodded, to force Connor to delve into the depth of his game.

Connor frowned. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

Hank seemed to be shaken from his trance of disbelief, his features instantly tightened, his limbs recoiled as he shoved himself into the corner of Connor’s view. He strayed his hands from physically pulling Connor away, but seemed primed to break that at a moment’s notice as he glared at Kamski. “Listen asshole, we’re done with this god-complex bull-”

“You have my word.” Kamski spoke quickly. “I’d write it down on some paper but… _alas_.”

Connor stole a glare at the man before shifting back to the RT600, her expression unmoved by the conflict before her, her gaze angled upward to watch him.

She was waiting.

But there was something beyond her docile obedience, her awaiting orders should the bullet never tear her processors and reduce her to a broken carcass of a machine.

A flicker of… _something_.

She blinked.

His system re-ran over the fraction of a second, the gleam and friction in her jaw, the looseness of her brows but stare that dented his chest cavity and warped the metal casing of his chest. An error, a mistake in his analysis software.

She blinked again.

He forced his human-imitation protocol, that used to keep humans at ease in his company, to halt as they watched one another. A stolen breath, a gasp he didn’t need to breath.

Their shared gaze burnt through his interface.

She.

She.

She…

She was _afraid_.

She was a _deviant_.

**> objective: shoot RT600 | receive information from Kamski**

He paused, the tension of his wrist faltered.

**> software instability… _detected_**

The two humans, surround him and the RT600 by both sides, watched in silence, the expectance in the air tightened like a noose. The clang of a bullet through metal casing, the emergency slump of the back of the RT600 as ~~her~~ its balance coils lost power and threatened to collapse to the tile below.

A trail of thirium leaking down her brow as her mechanism shut down.

The brightest eyes he had ever encountered, the light and hope, the unachievable desire for freedom that all deviants possessed… gone out like a candle.

By the snap of fingers of the person would had wired her together nearly two decades ago.

And he was the one ordered to ~~kill~~ destroy it.

**_> y_oU caN’t k1lL m_e_ **

He paused.

**_> I’m n_Ot alIV_5_ **

She stayed silent, watching the barrel quiver in his grip, his mechanism attempted to lock back into place. She was silent and yet spoke louder than any shout, any roar an angered human cursed at him. And there had been many across his model’s short ~~life~~ existence.

And she was _screaming_.

Yet silent.

**> objective: shoot RT600**

“We don’t need this asshole. Leave her, Connor.” The sound of Hank’s plead reached his sensors but strayed close enough to pry the pistol from his grasp with little effort. So why hadn’t he?

“Lieutenant.” Kamski countered, his voice smooth.

The two humans conflicted off the calmness, the still androids beside them with one still holding a pistol to the other’s head.

One bullet.

One bullet and…

She’d be ~~dead~~ _g0 oFfl_ine_

**> 0bject_ive: Sh0oT^60o**

“Connor.”

**> oBject_ive: sH0oT6_00**

“Go ahead, Connor,” Kamski’s voice was low, crackling in his audio input as the words of the Lieutenant seemed lost to the static.

He clenched his jaw.

It… it should be simple.

It _had_ to be.

It was…

It was his… _what_?

**> 0_Bj3cT_ive: s\\\H0^£T6_0))o…**

**> s0fTw4Re 1nStab\\\1Lity… d3t_ec7Ed!**

“-finish your _mission_.”

His…

His mission.

His role.

He…

He was given it.

Never…

Never asked.

Given.

Forced

~~Didn’t want~~

**> warning!! stress levels registered: 53% and _rising_!**

He was ~~a machine~~

Never given a choice

Never asked

Told

Ordered

// ** _it.wasnt.fair_**

aNdr0ids… caN’7 f3eL…

caN’t…

**// _you.liEd.t0.me.cOnn0R_**

_eRr0r_ …

**> wArning!! Str_ess levels 60% and _rising!_**

_cAn’t f3_eL_

_// **hE.wA5.g0nNa.k1l_*l me**_

_St_op_  

**_> wArn1ng!! S7re_ss LEve_ls 67% and rIsi_ng!!_ **

_PlE_Ase_

**// _I.jUs7.wA*t3d.t0.l1v3_**

_hEl9_

_hA_n^k_

He wasn't a_3_(94+#^€

He wasn't al36_?$_72

**//i.wA5.jU5T.tH3Ir.t0_y**

_cAn/t bR3aThr3…_

**//s0m3tH1nG.t0.tHr0W.aW8_y**

**_> wArn1n_g! sTr_3ss lEv3ls 82% aN_d r^i.sinG!!_ **

_cA/_n’t//h+lP.m3_

**_//aR3.y0_u.aFr41d.tO.d1e.c0)nN-oR.?_ **

_Afr_aid to…_

_Afr_Aid t0…_

Afraid

Afraid…

_Sh_e_

_Afraid._

_So afrAid_

**//wH4t.d0.y0u.w4_nt.c0nNo7.?**

Machines cannot _..3+36_;# &(--3-$;(!_

Machines can't _wg_dyh$ &3:7^^__

 **_//waNt_ ** _._

**_> >01100001 01101100 01101001 01110110 01100101_ **

**_> >01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000_ **

**_>_** **w4rN1ng!!! sTr_3ss lEv3.L _9_ 1%! CRI_**  ** _TICAL_  !**

**> Seek Cyb__l363:$-e store assistance immedi_iately.**

“Con-”

Can't comp_$6ute.

“Con-!”

**red**

~~tOo mUch…~~

~~tOo mUCh…~~

**red**

Redwredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredwredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredwredredredredredredredredredredredredred.h3lP.redredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredwredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredwredredredredredredredredred _ ~~l.3t~~_ redredredredredredredredredredredredredredred. _ ~~m3~~_.redredredredredredredredwredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredred. ~~ _1n_~~.redredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredredred

“... you’re  _free_.”

_blue._

He fired.

 

 

 

 

 

 

   


End file.
